


Convergence

by JestersTear



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con References, Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, kmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JestersTear/pseuds/JestersTear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self fill of my own Dragon Age Kink Meme prompt: Fenris tried to rekindle his relationship with Hawke after the three year break, only to have Hawke cruelly tell him that he would never accept someone who had denied him back. Now he's in love with Anders and he feels he can never deny him or the mage will leave him. Misunderstandings ensue, with a heavy dose of hurt/comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hawke

He had come to Fenris' house with the best of intentions, he really had. They were friends, after all, and the elf was bound to be reeling from his recent encounter with Danarius, all Hawke had meant to do was lend a sympathetic ear. Then Fenris had brought up that night.  
  
"We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago."  
  
"You didn't want to talk about it." ( _Don't go there now_.)  
  
"I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me, I deserve no less, but it isn't better. That night - I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now."  
  
 _Forgiveness_? He wanted _forgiveness_ for ripping his heart out? He had granted all the forgiveness he was ever going to grant by allowing it to remain unspoken between them, by remaining his friend, there was to be no more forgiveness involved. He had cared for the elf, could even have come to love him in time, and even though he had been over him for some time, the resentment was still there, so unless Fenris was going to tell him that Danarius had cast an elaborate spell on him that made him leave his lovers' beds straight after the fact and never mention it again, a blood magic ritual that only ended with the magister's death, he had better stop talking now.  
   
"I need to understand why you left, Fenris."  
  
"I've thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up - it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt."  
  
That was it? After three years he had the nerve to bring it up only to say he'd been a coward? Andraste's tits, _yes_ , he'd been a coward, but that much was a given. Fenris better not suddenly decide to proclaim his love for him now that it no longer mattered, after having made him suffer, or he'd wring his neck.   
  
"What would you have said?"  
  
"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."  
  
Hawke got up then, seething, glad for the height advantage that allowed him to tower over the other man. In that moment, looking at Fenris' hopeful eyes, all the hurt came bubbling up and he forgot they were friends for just long enough to fiercely hate the elf. He'd been kind and civil, but today Fenris was going to find out just how bad he could be left hurting. Then tomorrow they would not speak of it, and then they would be back on even terms.   
  
"You _rejected_ me - you left even though I asked you to stay - and now that I'm the Champion you thought I'd take you back? You and your issues and your miserable excuses? An elf with more hatred than sense who will never stop being a slave no matter how many masters he kills? I woke up thinking of having you again that night, wanting to show you how it could be like, you denied me, walked away and didn't mention it for three years and you hope I can forgive you? Let me make something clear: the only reason why I didn't give you back to Danarius today is because I'm against slavery on principle. Don't you dare ask for forgiveness after what you did."  
  
Fenris' eyes widened and Hawke could see the hurt there. _Good_ , he thought, savagely, _let_ him _be the one to suffer now._  
  
"You want my forgiveness? Kneel", he said coldly, "if nothing is worse than living without me then prove it and kneel."  
  
Fenris stood staring at him, mouth half open in shock. Then his features changed into a mask of rage, he gritted his teeth and uttered a single word.   
"Leave."  
  
"Ah. Not going to kneel, then. Unsurprising. Next time you think to tell someone that nothing could be worse than this or that, make sure you mean it."  
  
He turned to leave the mansion, oddly exhilarated from having finally gotten rid of what had festered for three years, then casually said, without even turning back, "I expect you to be ready tomorrow to go to the Gallows and see what Meredith wants if there's a shred of honour in you. And I expect you not to bring this up again, you know, goose, gander and all that?"  
  
At some point during the night, between petting his mabari and replying to the seemingly self-replenishing pile of letters on his desk, it crossed his mind that he might have been a tad too hard on Fenris, but he dismissed the thought. It was high time the elf learned that Hawke could give as good as he got, after all


	2. Anders I

This was not how Anders had imagined his first Justice-free day to be like. The image of Fenris at the Pearl, sucking a whore's cock, was burnt in his mind, and he couldn't get rid of it or of the question that hounded him. Why? Why had Fenris done it? Had the warrior known he was the only thing keeping him from going over the edge the past couple of years, had he been biding his time until now that Justice was no longer a concern? But why not tell him first, why go behind his back to the Pearl? He'd know why if he'd stayed to listen to the elf's flimsy excuses, but he couldn't have stayed in the brothel for another minute. He supposed that if there was a Maker, then this was his punishment, to finally have all his dreams within his grasp only to lose the most important part of it all. Fitting, really.  
  
He'd fallen in love with the warrior aeons ago, still in Kirkwall, but he'd known it was hopeless. Not only did Fenris hate him, but he was also Hawke's, that was clear for anyone to see. Then something had happened - Anders didn't know the specifics, only that it had ended with Fenris leaving Hawke's bed - and for the next three years the elf had been unspoken for, although that had meant little changed for the mage and his futile yearning.   
  
After defeating Danarius - may he rot in the dreariest corner of the Void - Fenris' and Hawke's relationship seemed to deteriorate even further, although Anders had no idea if there was a direct connection between the two events.   
  
Then one day, after a bout of Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man and many free flowing pints (well, free flowing for the others, at least, Justice had only allowed him one) Isabela had suggested a friendly game of truth or dare. There had been all sorts of silliness involved, silliness their party desperately needed, until, one by one, they trickled out; Sebastian had escorted Merrill back to the alienage, Aveline had an early day ahead of her, and even Hawke had turned in in the wake of Varric daring him to put on a dress the next time he went to visit Bethany in the Gallows. It was down to him, Fenris, Isabela and Varric.   
  
More wine flowed, more embarrassing truths flowed, more outrageous dares were issued. The look on Isabela's face when Fenris had dared her to put on the most decent and proper clothes anyone could find in the Hightown market and go to the Chantry and pretend to pray for the next three days in a row had been priceless. In retaliation, Isabela had dared Fenris to kiss Anders and, she specified, not just any kiss but an _Orlesian_ kiss, tongue and everything, and the apostate's heart had nearly stopped in anticipation.  
  
"Very well," Fenris had said, but made no movement to comply. The pirate queen looked on eagerly.

"Go ahead, then, what are you waiting for?"

Fenris' smirk was infuriating. "You did not say when. I will do it, because I have my honour, but I will do it at an unspecified point in time, without _you_ around to see."

Isabela's scowl could have curdled milk all the way to Ferelden - Anders could feel kittens everywhere meowing in protest - and the healer would forever deny the stab of bitter disappointment he felt at knowing it wasn't going to happen.

"What about me, don't I get a say in this?"

Three voices had replied as one "No," and that had been that.  
  
Later that night the two men had walked side by side through the streets of Lowtown, Fenris headed for his mansion, Anders walking to his clinic. The mage had been distracted and wasn't expecting the warrior to suddenly pin him to a wall and give him a thorough snogging. To this day he couldn't say what he'd been thinking to risk a hand through his chest at his audacity - it certainly hadn't been for lack of admonishment from Justice, whose disapproval was almost palpable - but, when the warrior had pulled away, he'd pulled him back into the kiss, trying to get his fill of memories for the time when Fenris came back to his senses. Except he hadn't. Anders didn't even know how they had ended up in the dilapidated mansion, had no memory of the trek through Hightown, only of heated kisses and a feeling of giddiness he hadn't had since before Justice. Fenris was surprisingly passionate - Anders had expected a quick, half clothed tumble at best, but the warrior had been up for everything the healer had thought to try - and, when it was over and Anders had pretended to fall asleep just to be allowed to feel Fenris' skin against his own for a little while longer, the elf had done the unthinkable and snuffed out the bedside candle, curling into him and covering them both rather than kicking him out. The apostate had stayed awake the entire night, absently stroking his lover's soft white hair once he'd been sure the other man had fallen asleep, and it had been with regret that he'd left Fenris' bed in the early hours of morning, before the elf could wake up and cast him out himself. He'd had his fill of memories, they'd be enough to sustain him.  
  
They hadn't been, as it turned out, and it was a mere three days later that saw him make the journey to Hightown once more, a flimsy excuse about having left his belt behind (never on purpose, of course, and it wasn't as if Hawke had a ton of belts stashed in his house that he was more than happy to let any of them wear for as long as they needed to either) on his lips that he ended up not needing to use because, once Fenris had opened the door and looked at him, they had fallen into one another as if it were the most natural thing in Thedas. It hadn't been easy after that, to carry on visiting Fenris and pretending not to love him, but what they did have was precious to him and he wouldn't risk it for anything, even if all he was to the warrior was a warm and willing body to mitigate Hawke's absence. Fenris never visited him in the clinic, but he was always willing and enthusiastic when he came to the mansion, his kisses alternating between tender and passionate in a way that left Anders' heart aching.  
  
When the thing that had once been Justice and was now a mixture of Justice, Vengeance and himself had started pushing for the bombing of the Chantry, Anders' first thought - and he knew that didn't make him a very good person - had been of Fenris. The part that was purely Anders had struggled fiercely against the murderous plan, but had been overruled by what he'd become. Little by little he had distanced himself from his lover, feeling unworthy of being with him, not wanting the warrior to be even remotely associated with such horrifying an act as the one he was planning. He wished he could stop, that his body and mind were solely his once more, that he'd never been foolish enough to offer to host his friend, or that he'd never been hateful enough to warp the righteous spirit into whatever it was that they'd become, but it was all pointless. He'd blow up the Chantry, make Fenris hate him in a way that had nothing to do with the way the elf had hated him so far - in a way that would never lend itself to tender kisses and nights of sex so achingly sweet he could have called it lovemaking if not for the fact that Fenris' heart was Hawke's. He'd bomb the Chantry, hope it would help mages everywhere, lose everything in the process and hope Hawke was merciful enough to kill him.  
  
Against everything he had expected, Hawke had let him live, had urged him to fight even though it meant making an enemy out of Sebastian. Fenris hadn't said a word, but Anders didn't need him to speak to know the warrior despised him now, that he wished him dead.  
  
The pain in his heart had been so great through the whole ordeal that even Justice had allowed him solitude and privacy in his thoughts. Mages everywhere were rebelling but Anders could already see it threatened to not be better at all. He'd kept himself apart from everyone even in so confined a space as Isabela's ship, not wanting to be forced to look Fenris in the eye and see the disgust there, and the only thing that had brought an inkling of comfort had been the sight of Amaranthine, knowing he had helped save the city.   
  
Tossing and turning in his bedroll that night, he'd decided to finally end it; Hawke hadn't killed him, but he could kill himself, after all. And then he wondered if Fenris wouldn't do him that kindness. To be able to look at the man he loved as he died, to be able to take that image with him... surely there could be no kinder fate than that. He'd gone to the warrior's tent with that thought in mind but, surprisingly, Fenris seemed to want him to live, to make up for what he had done rather than running away. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, really - living would be a much harsher punishment than dying, at that point - but he didn't have the courage to go on so broken. Morning was nearly breaking when he thought to throw himself at Fenris for one last kiss. With any luck the elf would be so furious that he'd kill him first and ask questions later. And yet, against all reason, Fenris had kissed him back just as fiercely, and given himself with the same amount of passion, if not more, than he used to back in Kirkwall. Fenris need never know that the tears in the healers' eyes that time could not be attributed to the sadness of what he'd done, but rather to the joy of still being wanted by the man he loved.   
  
Anders had regained the will to live after that, dedicating himself to his healing and to trying to find a way to send Justice back to the Fade, hoping to become a little less unworthy of Fenris' kiss and touch than he'd been so far. And, once again, whenever he paid his lovers' tent a visit, Fenris welcomed him with open arms, although the elf never came to his tent. Perhaps even more astounding was that the warrior made no effort to hide their relationship from the rest of the group, going so far as to give Isabela a truthful answer when she demanded to know how long they had been, in her words, shagging like sailor bunnies. He had wondered at some point if Fenris' goal was to make Hawke jealous, but he didn't seem to flaunt their relationship any more or any less in the presence of the other warrior, who only had eyes for Isabela since they had shared the captain's cabin on her ship anyway, so he'd dismissed that theory.  
  
He had suggested, and Hawke had agreed, that they search for the Hero of Ferelden, who might help put an end to the fighting with only marginally less trouble than that with which he'd put an end to the Blight, but who had seemed to vanish off the face of Thedas without a trace.   
  
Fenris' constant acceptance of his visits to his tent made him grow bolder, visiting almost every night and often sleeping there, relishing in the fact that it was he who got to hold the warrior in his sleep and that Fenris didn't even seem to mind his frequent darkspawn infested nightmares, waking him up with heart wrenching gentleness whenever one plagued him.   
  
Finding Nathaniel Howe had been a bigger stroke of luck than he could have imagined; the archer knew nothing of the Hero's whereabouts, but he had given them free use of Wardens Keep, where Anders had found a book detailing how to do something the mage no longer dared dream: how to keep a Fade spirit dormant within its host. It wasn't blood magic, and the ritual's only catch was that the spirit needed to be willing, but Justice had not objected. At best they'd find a way to send him to the Fade, at worst he'd blink and Anders' Calling would have arrived. He'd be free once the healer died, either way, so falling asleep for a little while did not bother him. Nearly two years after the bombing of the Chantry, Anders' will and body were his own once more.  
  
Hawke had declared it an occasion to celebrate and gotten them all rooms for a week in Denerim at the Gnawed Noble. Anders had been looking forward to that first night without Justice, to making love to Fenris - he could no longer call it anything else, even knowing the elf did not share his feelings - on a real bed, without the constant waves of the spirit's disapproval wearing him thin, but Fenris had seemed cold the entire time they'd all spent drinking and talking. Nathaniel and Bethany had been together for three months, and the archer had no idea what to do or say to get her to break the news - or allow _him_ to break the news - to Hawke, so Anders had spent half the night counselling him. When Fenris had excused himself he'd seen no reason to remain at the table and had helped the archer sneak into Bethany's room before heading to his own and laying awake in bed the entire night. He wanted so badly to go to Fenris, he had thought of nothing else from the moment the ritual had been completed, but he was terrified by the warrior's behaviour at the tavern. What if he'd decided to break it off now that he needn't be concerned with Justice? The thought was so painful he couldn't stand it, and he truly didn't want to know if that was the case on his very first Justice free night, so he hadn't gone.   
  
In the morning he'd gotten up, decided to do something productive and brewed several batches of healing potions. Some he kept for them to use, most he took with him to the Pearl. He'd fetch a good price for them and maybe even make an arrangement with Sanga similar to the one he'd had with Lusine. He had been anything but prepared for a half closed bedroom door at the brothel, and Fenris laying there, a whore's cock between his parted lips. He was vaguely aware that Fenris had sprung from the bed and asked him to wait, but Anders couldn't. So maybe Fenris hadn't been cruel to the point of wanting him to find out this way, but that didn't mean he could stomach staying in the brothel listening to half baked excuses.   
  
Sitting on his bed and staring at the ceiling, he tried his best to ignore the little voice in his head - a voice that, for the first time in over a decade, was entirely his own - that pointed out he had no reason to feel betrayed because Fenris had never been his to begin with.


	3. Fenris I

Trying to numb the ache in his chest, Fenris opened another bottle. He'd lost count of how many he'd emptied since returning from the Pearl, yet the pain would not abate. All his careful manoeuvring around Anders' needs and still it had come to this - he was alone again, and it was unbearably worse than when he'd lost Hawke. _Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you_ , he'd said, but he hadn't known then what loving Anders - what _losing_ Anders - would feel like.  
  
Hawke. His thoughts were once again jolted back to that fateful night. _Kneel_ , the warrior had commanded, _if nothing is worse than living without me then prove it and kneel._. But he hadn't, belying his own words, because losing his pride and his status as a free man felt even worse a fate. And yet in many of the nights that followed, alone in bed and with an aching heart, Fenris had wondered if having knelt wouldn't have been the better option. His single night with Hawke had been the one good thing up to that point in a life that had been spent either enslaved or on the run, and the Champion's touch had been so different from Danarius', despite the harshness of both, that even after three years he could not forget it.  
Hawke hadn't been bothered at all by his refusal to kneel, and Fenris knew the other man had simply been making a point, shedding light upon Fenris' self delusion.  
  
Then, despite all sanity, he'd fallen in love with a man who was supposed to be all he hated, a possessed Apostate with a determination to free mages and an unwillingness to believe they'd become magisters before long. Someone who by all accounts hated him fiercely. Someone who would surely mock his feelings should he ever find out about them.  
Someone who, quite unexpectedly, desired him, he'd discovered the night he'd been reckless enough to kiss the mage. And that hadn't even been the biggest surprise of the night. No, the biggest surprise had been Anders' touch, gentle and caring where Fenris had known only harsh and demanding. He'd never even dreamt it could feel that way, and had almost wept at the way the mage had held him, as if he were precious. The elf had hidden the depth of his feelings as well as he could after that, afraid his lover would turn him away if he knew it was so much more than physical release he craved, and he'd learned from his experience with Hawke never to say no. He'd bedded Anders whenever the other man had wanted him to, always displaying the same amount of enthusiasm no matter the time or day. Anders was nearly insatiable, but he was also a very generous lover and Fenris felt incredibly fortunate to be the object of his desire, not only because he usually desired him back just as much. And, if there was the occasional day when the pain from his markings was so agonising that all he wanted to do was curl up into a shivering ball, hiding it and pleasuring his lover all the same was a small price to pay for the privilege of being with him.  
  
He'd been terrified Anders had found someone else when the mage had turned distant and, in an odd way, had been almost relieved that it had turned out to be plans for the bombing of the Chantry that had kept the other man from him.  
He'd have done anything to protect Anders, but found he didn't have to reveal the extent of his feelings - Hawke had a soft spot for Anders, and would never side with the Templars with Bethany in the circle anyway. Anders need never know that, in the midst of the chaos that was Kirkwall that fateful day, a lone elf had silently stalked his erstwhile friend, the Prince of Starkhaven and crushed his still beating heart inside his chest before he could begin amassing an army to hunt down the apostate.  
  
Defeating Meredith and Orsino, making a grab for Bethany, fleeing to Ferelden, it was all a blur in his mind. All he had been concerned with had been assessing if it was still mostly Anders in his body. After weeks cooped up in Isabela's ship with nary a word he had been as ready as he could be for Anders to break it off with him, but the heavy silence had continued even after they landed in the port of Amaranthine. It was only when leaving the city gates that Anders had spoken, remarking quietly he'd helped save the city what seemed like a lifetime ago.  
  
And then that night at camp the apostate had come to his tent, eyes red and voice raw, and whispered how sorry he was, and how he'd become everything Fenris had once accused him of being. Begging the elf to simply reach inside his chest and crush his heart once and for all.   
And Fenris had known with chilling certainty that, if he could not convince his ( _former?_ ) lover that living was a better alternative, then he'd acquiesce... and follow him shortly after.  
They'd talked until dawn, Fenris speaking harshly of cowardice and reparations, hoping against hope that his familiar scathing tone would be what Anders needed to regain a sense of normalcy. Fenris had not dared hope he'd still be wanted in the aftermath of the mage's guilt and was unprepared for the suddenness with which the other man lunged at him and kissed him in the early hours of morning. He'd had to bite his tongue until he drew blood to stop himself from blurting out his feelings while Anders took him that time, but the apostate had seemed to wake up from his stupor after that, throwing himself wholly into healing those in need, researching ways to finally separate himself from Justice, and more importantly for Fenris, rekindling their relationship.   
  
They were searching tirelessly for the one person who might help sort out the mess the mage had created: Hawke's cousin and Anders' former commander, fellow mage and friend, Warden Amell, and if that meant living out of a tent all over Ferelden then so be it.   
  
Despite the chaos encompassing Thedas, it had been the happiest time of Fenris' life. Their band of misfits was down to the two of them, Hawke, Bethany and Isabela; Merrill had joined a Dalish community who knew nothing of her misfortunes with the Eluvian, Aveline had stayed with Donnic in Amaranthine as part of the city guard and Varric was off establishing contacts in Antiva, hoping that finding the former crow they had once met meant finding his lover, the Warden, as well.  
Anders came to his tent almost every night, and would sometimes fall asleep there afterwards, encompassing the former slave in the warmth of his embrace. Fenris would not have traded those nights for anything in the world.   
Then after nearly two years it had all come crashing down.  
  
Having come across Nathaniel Howe, who was as unaware of the Warden's whereabouts as everyone else in Thedas, it seemed, they had gained access to the Wardens' Keep and, amidst the musty old tomes of the blood mage Avernus, they'd found a surprisingly blood magic-free way to keep Justice dormant indefinitely until they could research a more permanent solution.   
Anders' thoughts could now once more be attributed simply to himself, and the apostate was in a rare joyous mood at the Gnawed Noble, drinking with them and chatting animatedly with Nathaniel. Fenris' heart had churned with jealousy and bile had risen in his throat at the unbidden thought that he had no claim over the mage, no true right to be jealous since no promises had ever been made.   
He'd excused himself from the table to go get some air at the same time Bethany had retired to her room, only to come back and find his ( _former?_ ) lover had left with the archer. A very drunken Hawke had taken a perverse pleasure in informing him of that as soon as he came back in.  
  
"If you're looking for Anders he left with Nathaniel," he'd said flippantly, "and, for his sake, I hope he's getting his cock properly sucked right this moment, now that Justice isn't holding him back. Maker knows it's enough punishment for anyone to go for two years with only _your_ questionable skills in that area." Isabela, even drunker than the Champion, had giggled and slapped her lover's arm in mock reprimand before launching into a detailed description of what Anders had been like sexually before Justice, and what the mage, Fenris and Nathaniel could do together now, and no one seemed to notice how much Hawke's careless words had cut Fenris.   
He knew it was true, Danarius had never used his mouth in any way that required creativity on his part, usually a lot more interested in taking him from behind, on all fours as befitted a "Little Wolf", and in the time he'd been with Anders he'd picked up some tricks but nothing that could hold a candle to Isabela's description. Would that be all it took for him to lose Anders, then? His lack of prowess, even if he was always willing? He'd gone to his own room shortly after that, hoping against hope Anders would pay him a visit at any point during his first Justice free night in years, but his door remained heartbreakingly undisturbed throughout the entire night.   
  
Still drunk and running on no sleep he had pieced together a few silvers and gone to the Pearl to pay for a lesson; maybe if he learned new tricks he could keep the apostate interested just a little while longer, maybe he didn't have to lose him just yet. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; two hours later, when the door had opened and in had walked none other than Anders himself, his arms laden with healing potions and discussing with Sanga prices for weekly deliveries of potions and healing services, only to find Fenris with another man's cock down his throat, it had seemed like a decidedly less stellar idea.   
  
Frantic, Fenris had tried to explain but the mage would have none of it and had simply left, leaving the elf talking to himself.   
  
And now, hours later, holed up in his bedroom, wine was doing nothing to keep Fenris drunk through the sobering pain in his heart. Anders despised him and he had nothing. He had attempted to keep his lover in the stupidest of ways and he'd lost him forever.   
  
 _Kneel_ , Hawke had said, but he hadn't. Would Anders listen if he knelt, would he give him a chance? He hadn't knelt before Hawke because it had turned out that some things _had_ been worse that the thought of living without him, but Anders? Anders who touched him so tenderly, who made it seem as if Fenris was the most important person in Thedas when he held him? What was his freedom compared to that? What happiness had his freedom ever brought him, after all? Varania's words came back to him. _Freedom was no boon._ No, freedom was no boon without Anders. All he'd ever wanted was to be happy, and he'd found that happiness with the mage, there was nothing he wouldn't give to win even a fraction of it back. Even if... the thought squeezed his heart but he forced himself to dwell on it through the tears he hadn't known he was shedding. Even if Anders was no longer interested in returning to their previous relationship after the elf's betrayal, even if he was definitely with Nathaniel now, if kneeling would get his ( _yes, former_ ) lover to listen, he would kneel. And if the mage still wanted any part of Fenris after that, it would be worth it to lose both freedom and pride.   
  
There was a strange sort of peace that followed his decision, even through the pain, a sense of inevitability not unlike the one he'd felt when Danarius had told him to slay the Fog Warriors. He'd been a fool, playing at being a free man, and the hope and want had been more crushing than the doubts. At least if he were to kneel before Anders he'd know his place and stay in it, no longer yearning for impossible things he wasn't meant to have. Hawke had been right in the end, if nothing was truly worse than the thought of living without him he'd have knelt. He'd kneel now and hope Anders still had any use for him in his life.


	4. Anders II

Unexpectedly - or perhaps not - Anders was saved from further dwelling on his maudlin thoughts by his door opening to admit Fenris. The other man had - thankfully, considering what he'd been doing at the brothel! - bathed and was wearing a simple tunic over his leggings rather than his usual armor, his hands gauntlet-free, his hair still wet.  
  
"Get out." He hadn't even known he was going to speak until he had. Fenris' response was to walk further into the room and to close the door behind him.  
  
"Please, listen-"  
  
Hurt and furious, Anders was on his feet holding his staff in a flash, his tone menacing.  
  
"I said. Get. Out."  
  
And then Fenris was kneeling before him, his head hung low in a way that could not be described as anything other than prostrate, and the stunned mage's staff had clattered uselessly to the floor.  
  
"Fenris?"  
  
"Please. Please let me explain, I beg you."  
  
"Fenris, get up."  
  
" _Please_." The elf crawled closer and kissed his booted foot. Anders couldn't fall to the floor fast enough in an attempt to keep himself level with the man he loved, to stop the warrior from humiliating himself further.  
  
"Fenris, will you please get up?"  
  
"I beg of you, you can punish me however you see fit, but don't turn me away without allowing me to explain."  
  
"I'll listen, I'll listen to whatever you have to say if you'll only get up from the floor and sit on the bed, Fenris."  
  
The warrior complied after that, allowing the mage to half pull him to the bed where he sat, nervously wringing his hands together, painfully sober.  
  
"What you saw in the Pearl, it wasn't what it looked like," he started, and Anders would have kicked him out then and there if not for the memory of his lover debasing himself mere minutes before, and the threat of it happening again.  
  
"Really? That's your explanation, it wasn't what it looked like? What in the Void was it, then, Fenris, were you sleepwalking and accidentally swallowed that whore's cock?"

"I paid to learn."

"To learn?" Now he was bewildered. "To learn _what_ , exactly?"

"To learn how to better please you with my mouth," he said, and all the air left Anders' lungs in a rush. "I wasn't thinking straight, I had been drinking a lot more than usual, and when Hawke said that my lack of... oral skills was probably the reason why you'd left with Nathaniel now that Justice no longer held you back, I-"

Anders' tone was deadly. "Hawke said _what_?"

"That you'd left with Nathaniel and that he hoped it was..." His voice caught in his throat but he carried on regardless "that he hoped it was because you were getting your cock properly sucked now that Justice wasn't awake to object."  
  
Fenris' head was still hung low, still refusing to meet his eyes, but the pain he felt was written clearly across his countenance. Anders couldn't have felt more astounded if he'd tried.

"And you _believed_ him?"

"I... Isabela mentioned the things you used to do... I know I lack the skills to compete with that."

"I'll deal with Hawke in the morning." Anders knew his voice was ice cold, but the fury he felt at Hawke's casual cruelty was overwhelming. Fenris' tone, on the other hand, had a distinctively hopeful note to it.

"Will you forgive me then? I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit without complaint, I swear."  
  
He was sure his lover couldn't possibly mean what it seemed he meant. A discrete and casual flick of his wrist confirmed that there was no blood magic involved. Perhaps he should put it bluntly so that Fenris would hear himself and snap out of this, whatever this was.  
  
"Fenris... are you offering to be my slave, is that what you're saying?"  
  
"Yes. A slave might be all I am good for, but I can be a good slave if you'll let me, please."  
  
Anders was still finding it hard to breathe. How could Fenris think he'd want him to be his slave? How could he offer that? Was that how he saw him, another Danarius in waiting? Did he expect him to turn to blood magic next, slaying children for the amusement of party guests?  
  
"Do you truly believe I'd ever want that? Do you think _me_ a slaver?"  
  
Fenris' voice had never sounded so small.  
"You... do not want me, then." His breath hitched. "After what I have done I am unworthy of even serving you. I understand." He bowed his head and rose from the bed only to be stopped by a horrified Anders.  
  
"Fenris, stop. Listen to what you're saying, what's the matter with you?"  
  
"I thought I'd learnt from my failure with Hawke how to keep you. I believed all I had to do was never refuse you and you'd allow me to stay. I was so careful never to deny you that it never occurred to me that with Justice gone you'd have better choices and no one to disapprove of them. I was a fool. All my life, always a fool. I wish... I hope Nathaniel can make you happy."  
  
"There is no Nathaniel," Anders exploded, desperate for Fenris to finally see, "there never was! All we were talking about was about how frustrated he is that Bethany wants to keep their relationship a secret until she figures out how best to break the news to Hawke! And then we left together so he'd have an excuse to sneak into her bedroom like a teenager without Hawke noticing, and I spent the rest of my night here, wanting to go to your bedroom but too much of a coward to find out what was wrong after the cold shoulder you gave me over drinks!"  
  
Fenris seemed, if possible, even more anguished. "Then... I lost you for _nothing_?"  
  
"You haven't lost me, Fenris!"  
  
Fenris' eyes snapped finally to his and filled with tears.  
"Please don't toy with me. Not if you intend to send me away, I..." He trailed off, then lowered his head again, resigned. "I'm sorry, I did say I'd accept any punishment without complaint, I'm failing at even that."  
  
Anders crossed the short distance between them in three rapid strides and wrapped his arms tightly around his lover. Fenris sucked in a breath.  
  
"Will you please listen to what I'm trying to tell you, Fenris? You haven't lost me, I'm right here. I don't know how to deal with this, what to do or say to make you believe me. I don't even know what's happening, I... I've always thought you didn't much like me, that you shared my bed because Hawke's wasn't an option anymore."  
  
The warrior's tear-filled eyes burned fiercely for a moment. "It's you, it has always been you, since before the day I played along with Isabela's dare. I thought... as long as you didn't know how I felt you wouldn't turn me away just yet..." He swallowed, turning his gaze to an undefined point somewhere over the healer's shoulder.  
  
It was Anders' turn to suck in a breath. All the time and effort that had gone into hiding his feelings and Fenris shared them? And Justice wasn't awake to influence his actions anymore, he could count on himself not to become a monster anytime soon. Here in his arms stood his shot at true happiness when he hadn't known that could still happen for him. He was damned if he was ever letting go. One arm still wrapped around Fenris' waist, he brought his other hand up to the warrior's face to gently wipe away his tears, cupping it and bringing it to meet his eyes. His lover felt so vulnerable like this, no armour or spiky gauntlets... it was no doubt deliberate, to have stripped himself of his usual protection before coming here to offer himself up as slave. His heart constricted painfully and, as he looked his lover - his _love_ \- in the eyes, he willed him to believe what he was trying to convey.  
  
"I love you. I have loved you for so long, Fenris, since before you shared Hawke's bed. I never thought you'd appreciate the sentiment coming from me. I never thought I'd be able to say the words to you and have them be welcome. If it were up to me I'd shout it from the rooftops. I love you."  
  
"Anders," Fenris whispered, and it was so rare for the warrior to speak his name, and never with such reverence. He kissed him then, poured all his longing into that kiss, all the sleepless nights and the never ending string of days he'd spent wishing he could _be_ Hawke so he'd have Fenris' devotion; all the moments he'd gone so far as to wish his _magic_ , the very thing that defined him, away if it meant having a chance of winning the warrior's heart. Nothing mattered more than the man in his arms, nothing ever would.  
  
Fenris melted against him, kissed him back with equal fervour and Anders felt himself soar. He was home.


	5. Fenris II

"I said. Get. Out."

  
Fenris had taken one look at the mage's combat stance, heard the anger in his voice, and feared his plan was doomed from the start. He had thought to come here, unarmoured, and kneel with the same poise that had been - quite painfully, at times - instilled in him while he'd been Danarius', proving through his actions that he was valuable property, but, looking at Anders, he didn't think he had enough time for that before the mage kicked him out for good. He had panicked, knelt too quickly, crawled too gracelessly, fumbled like a newly-bought slave. It was a miracle that Anders had allowed him to explain anything at all after his pathetic display.

  
Even his explanation had started out in the worst possible way, but Anders had endured it and let him finish, despite his obvious anger. When the mage's fury had shifted to Hawke the warrior had allowed himself a brief glimpse of hope. The healer had pulled no punches, had made him say it out loud - that he was offering, asking, _begging_ to be his slave - but he was past caring about that if it meant he still got to be with the other man.  
Then he'd heard how utterly appalled Anders was at the implication he'd want a slave and his hope had been snuffed out like a candle. It was Hawke all over again - making him believe he'd have a chance only to crush it in the end - but far, far worse because this was _Anders_. He'd gotten up to leave, a conversation he'd had with the apostate a lifetime ago on the forefront of his mind. _Some things are worse than dying_ , the mage had said, and Fenris hadn't believed it possible. Now he knew it to be true far too well.  
  
Anders had stopped him, wanted further clarification, and he had blurted everything he'd failed at. He didn't know whether the mage believed him when he said he hoped Nathaniel could make him happy, but it was true, there was nothing he wished more than for Anders to finally have happiness in his life after all he'd been through. He just wished it could have been with him in it, but that was over and done now, no amount of wishing would change it.  
  
Knowing it was all in his head, that there had never been anything between the archer and the healer, had been the harshest blow of all. He'd gone and lost the man he loved for no reason and there was no going back.  
  
When Anders had said that he hadn't lost him Fenris didn't think he could take much more of that, that toying with him when the mage didn't want him even as a slave. He'd tried to beg his way out of it only to realise that that was probably the punishment for his betrayal, to stay in that bedroom being given hope and then having it taken away until Anders tired of the game, and he was failing it already.  
  
But then... then Anders had come to him, had held him with such tenderness that it was hard to breathe, and had told him that he'd always believed Fenris to still be pining for Hawke, of all people. That he'd been convinced _Fenris_ had been using _him_ all that time. Punishment or not, false hope or not, the warrior could never let that stand. So he'd confessed everything - what was the point in hiding it now, anyway, in saving face when his heart was beyond saving? - and it occurred to him that he'd gladly submit to Anders' toying all night long if it meant having the mage holding him just so. He had looked away, unwilling to shatter the illusion by looking into the other man's eyes, but Anders would have none of it and had brought his face back to meet them, the hand wiping away his tears and cupping his cheek as gentle as his embrace. And in his eyes he had found nothing of what he'd been expecting, no disdain, no vicious satisfaction at his suffering, no calculating coldness."I love you," Anders had said, his voice as filled with emotion as the look in his eyes, and it was impossible, it couldn't be true, and yet Fenris could plainly see that it was. In that moment something inside of him that he had never known was broken was suddenly whole again. Anders loved him.  
  
"Anders," he'd whispered, and then the mage was kissing him in a way that put all their other kisses to shame and Fenris had never known it was possible to be so happy. He'd worry it was a desire demon tempting him if not for the fact that he was suddenly aware of how cold he was, the tunic much thinner than his armour and his wet, ice cold hair doing nothing to warm him up. Anders seemed to notice it too.  
"Maker, Fenris, you're freezing! Come here, I'll get a towel."  
  
It was endearing to see the mage in full healer mode, fussing over him and showering him with such open affection. Before he knew it he was being led to the bed and helped out of the tunic, so wet around his neck that it was doing more to keep him cold than it had ever done to keep him warm, and then Anders was vigorously drying off both his hair and shoulders before shrugging off his own coat and boots and joining him in the bed.  
  
He expected his lover to want sex - Fenris himself was anything but opposed to the idea - but Anders seemed happy to just hold him close in that astonishingly tender way of his and kiss him.  
  
"I never thought you'd let me do this," he purred contentedly, a smile on his lips, "you should be cold more often if it ends up like this."  
  
Fenris heard a laugh, a warm, happy sound, and was amazed to discover it was his own.  
  
"Yes, well, can we try it without the freezing part next time? There's nothing I won't allow you to do either way and, if it's all the same to you, I'd much rather be warm for it."  
  
The healer's tone was suddenly serious.  
"You mean that, don't you? That there's nothing you won't allow me? That's not what I want, love, surely you know that."  
  
Fenris' eyes widened at the casual endearment, and his brain had trouble processing anything said after that. He propped himself on one elbow to better look at the healer.  
  
"It is what it is, though. I am yours, if you'll have me."  
  
Anders seemed to consider his words.  
  
"You were Hawke's too, weren't you?"  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
"And there was no one special before him?"  
  
There had been no one before Hawke, special or otherwise, unless one counted Danarius, but Fenris was unsure where this line of questioning would lead so he just confirmed it.  
  
"No."  
  
"And Danarius, sick little bastard that he was, considered you his weapon, so in a way you thought of yourself as his at the time."  
  
"I... yes." _More than just his weapon_ , but Anders didn't know that, no one outside the Imperium knew that. Shame filled him at the thought, while his already half panicked mind wondered if Anders was trying to convey that him telling the healer that he was his didn't mean much considering he'd already belonged to others. Was he rejecting his love after all, had his first instinct that Anders was punishing his betrayal by toying with him been right? But it couldn't be, he had looked right into his eyes, he had seen... no one could fake that, could they? Maker, _please_ , no one could fake that.  
  
"So no one was ever yours, were they?"  
  
Fenris closed his eyes and drew breath before answering, his voice a whisper, his heart caught in his throat.  
  
"No." No, of course not. He was an elf and a former slave, a broken used thing, had been a fugitive for years, who would ever belong to him? The apostate wanting him to be his had surpassed everything he had ever dared dream, why bring this up? That Anders could ask him this while still holding him so tenderly was a special kind of Void. The mage's voice was urgent, rough with emotion that the elf didn't know what to make of.  
  
"Fenris? Fenris, love, look at me, I want to make sure I say this right."  
  
He could do nothing but obey, certain that if Anders were to tell him now that he meant nothing to him the pain would kill him.  
  
"I am a mage, which is something you hate - no, don't say anything, just let me speak - I am a mage, I blew up a Chantry because I allowed a righteous spirit to possess me and then what I had in me was so ugly that it changed him to something almost like a demon. Somewhere out there there's a prince gathering an army to come hunt me down, and I'm not so foolish as to think I'll be able to evade him forever. I'll always be a Grey Warden even though I say I left, I'll wake up thrashing and screaming in the middle of the night more often than not until the day I die, be it at Sebastian's hands or a shriek's claws. I'm no prize by any sort of standards, least of all your own, but I love you and all that I am, however little it's worth, is yours. Just yours and no one else's for as long as I breathe."  
  
Fenris didn't know what came over him at the mage's proclamation, but he grabbed Anders desperately, his kisses almost savage in their need.  
  
"Mine," he growled in between kisses. "Yours," the healer agreed just as fiercely.  
  
He had never been so bold, had never believed he had any right to be, but now he was doing all the little things he'd always wanted to, was pulling Anders' hair free from its ponytail, running his hands through it almost painfully, still kissing him, still half afraid he'd wake up to discover none of it was real.  
  
Anders kissed him back, slowed their frantic pace a little to where it was more deep passion than desperate need, and soon they were making love, the healer punctuating his thrusts with whispered endearments that Fenris had never thought would be meant for him. He'd gladly go through it all again, the warrior realised suddenly, he'd gladly be Danarius' slave all over again, have his memories wiped, have his sister betray him, have Hawke spurn him, all of it gladly if it meant arriving at this precise moment in time, having this man all to his own. He would not change a single second of his life just as long as he could have Anders right now. Finally he truly belonged, in a way that had nothing to do with the object he had been. He was free at last.

  
When it was over, to his surprise, the mage didn't fall asleep immediately, as he did every time without fail. They were both sated but wide awake, Anders lazily tracing patterns on his stomach, not tracing the lyrium but creating new ones instead.  
  
"This is unexpected."

"What is, love?"

"You. Awake. Afterwards, I mean, you always sleep like the dead when it's over."  
  
Anders smiled as though he was about to share a secret.  
  
"I'll have you know I've never once fallen asleep before you in my life. Grey Warden stamina beats handsome broodiness, I'm afraid. I was only pretending to be asleep."  
  
Fenris raised a questioning eyebrow, curious as to why his lover would pretend something like that, and the mage continued.  
  
"The first time I didn't think my ruse would last very long, actually. I thought for sure you'd kick me out, and I just wanted to feel you while I was still enveloped in that marvellous post orgasmic bliss. _This_ marvellous post orgasmic bliss, come to think of it. When I found out you'd let me stay if you thought I was asleep, well, surely you can't blame me for pretending."  
  
Would wonders never cease? It was hard to believe he'd thought it was over scant hours ago.  
  
"I am glad you no longer have to pretend."  
  
"Me too. I want to enjoy every second of this and I'd rather not waste it with my eyes closed. Sleep is overrated anyway. Lots of pesky darkspawn lying in wait. Besides, we should discuss what happened earlier, or rather what led to it."  
  
"What led to this? I believe you were saying something to the effect of you being mine, but I could bear to be reminded, I'm sure," Fenris said, his lips quirking upwards.  
  
Anders had that secret smile again, the one Fenris had never seen before today and, yes, it could simply be the way the mage smiled when he didn't have a spirit awake inside of him, but the warrior would like to think it was because of him instead.  
  
"Not that, you tease! Seriously, though," he continued, sitting up, "about what led you to the Pearl - no, please, love, don't look like that, I only need to say this one thing and then we'll never have to discuss it again if it makes you uncomfortable."  
  
Fenris couldn't help but tense up at the mention of the brothel, but he nodded. Anders had every right to bring it up, after all, and the mage's words had somewhat reassured him that it wouldn't be anything too terrible. It was still jarring, but he was confident the other man wouldn't leave him after such a sudden declaration of love.  
  
"I just can't understand how you thought you weren't good enough. I... how can you not realise how you make me feel? Even before tonight, physically at least, I thought you knew how incredible it is for me."  
  
Pride filled him at the unexpected praise.  
"I knew I lacked your experience, and when Hawke... I didn't know if I was doing it right, I had nothing real to compare it to except that night with Hawke, which he had just implied was rubbish, and your performance, and that always makes me feel lacking in comparison."  
  
"I don't know if I should thank you for the compliment or go murder Hawke first."  
  
"Murdering Hawke would imply leaving the bed."  
  
"Mmmm, fair point." The mage was getting ready to lay back down when something else seemed to jolt him. "Wait a minute. When you say you had nothing to compare it to except Hawke and I... Fenris, were you a virgin as far as you remember, when you and Hawke..."  
  
Oh, no. Fenris didn't want to answer this, he didn't want to be forced to choose between lying to the mage and admitting that Danarius had used him whenever he pleased, that he had never even said no.  
  
"Must we scrutinise every single aspect of my life tonight, mage?"  
  
His voice had been a lot harsher than he intended, and he could tell he'd offended by the way Anders' tone turned curt.  
"No. No, of course not. Forgive me."  
  
The healer laid down the rest of the way but turned to the other side, pulling the covers over them both. The silence stretched on and Fenris didn't know what to do to break it. At least the mage wasn't pretending to be asleep, that was something, right?

"Anders," he started, hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." But he could tell it wasn't. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I didn't mean to offend you, I..."

Anders sighed and turned to look at him, his face pinched. "You didn't offend me, Fenris, you're entitled to your privacy. I just wasn't expecting you to treat me as a High Inquisitor, that's all."

"I didn't mean-"

"Fenris, for the love of the Maker, let it go!"

And then the words were out before he could stop them. "I didn't want you to know about Danarius, but I didn't want to lie to you."  
  
The mage's eyes went wide and Fenris shrank a little.  
  
"Danarius? But... but you told Isabela that you were just his bodyguard..."  
  
"I didn't want anyone to know."  
  
Fenris didn't believe he could possibly get any smaller, but he hoped he could just disappear.  
  
"That son of a broodmother _raped_ you?"  
  
He'd been wrong. It _was_ possible to feel smaller. His voice turned distant as he spoke, as if somehow that could make the whole sordid affair more distant as well.  
  
"He didn't rape me. I never asked him not to. I was eager to please, proud of my endurance, proud when he chose me over another. I had pleasure too. It wasn't rape."  
  
Surely Anders would be disgusted with him now, would think him the wild beast he'd once accused him of being, having had pleasure and yet still having killed Danarius. This night had him bone weary with all its jumbled emotions, as if he were flying on a High Dragon one moment, then being tossed on the ground and stomped on by it the next, and by now he just wanted it to be over, one way or the other. Hoping and having and losing, only to start hoping again, it was too much.  
  
Anders' face was a little green, his voice toneless.  
"He didn't rape you because you never told him to stop. Because your _body_ had pleasure. You're telling me he didn't rape you because you were proud, as his _slave_ , to be chosen for the task."  
  
Fenris nodded once, sharply, not trusting his voice. Anders scrambled off the bed and promptly vomited in the chamber pot. It was worse than he'd feared, the healer's disgust of him so strong it manifested physically where, just minutes ago, there'd been love. He'd had love for himself, love of his very own for a night, but it had been based on a lie, a lie that he'd ever deserve it, a lie that he'd ever be good for anything else other than to be used like the thing he was. He wished, not for the first time this night, that his heart would just stop and spare him this pain.  
  
He got up from the bed gingerly, his legs unsteady. Anders was still retching into the chamber pot, mostly dry heaving now and drawing in air in great big gulps whenever he could. Fenris was pretty sure he was expected to leave by now, but his legs just wouldn't start moving towards his clothes. Finally Anders' dry heaving stopped and the mage managed to get up, go to the basin to rinse his mouth and draw a washcloth through his face. He was looking at Fenris as if he'd never seen him before, and the obvious way in which he manoeuvred the bedroom to keep space between them at all times until he finally sat on the edge of the bed made the elf's heart break even further when he hadn't known he still had any piece left large enough to break. When Anders finally spoke, in a harsh, horrified whisper, it was more to himself than to his (of course, _former_ ) lover, his eyes looking through Fenris rather than at him.  
  
"You told me you'd been careful never to deny me, but I managed to gloss over that, to not truly listen to what you were telling me. You came here offering to be my slave and I still didn't want to see it. I hid from the truth behind my feelings, and behind the projection of them on you. You can't love me, Fenris. _Maker_ , I've been your Danarius all along."  
  
That was not what Fenris had expected to hear at all.  
  
"What? No!"

"No? I've had you against your will repeatedly because you didn't think you had the right to say no - because your _body_ took pleasure from it. And I didn't even see it. I didn't _want_ to see it."

"You cannot compare yourself to him. I was proud to be chosen as a slave, but I did not... feel for him, not as I do for you."  
  
"They're not real, Fenris." Anders' voice sounded as bone weary as Fenris felt. "Your feelings for me are not real. You reacted to my love with imagined love of your own, your heart has been as conditioned as your body was. Whether or not you realise it, Fenris, he did rape you. You just didn't know it. Just as I've been raping you for two years. No wonder you never came to me. I'm no better than him if I managed to convince myself you wanted me just because you didn't turn me away when I came to you."  
  
Anders wasn't blaming him for having been Danarius' willing fuck toy, he was blaming _himself_ for all the happiness he'd brought into Fenris' life? Could he not see the madness of it?  
  
"If I never came to you it was because I am a coward! Because I was afraid you would tell me to leave. There was never a night when I didn't wish you'd show up!"

"Show up to take you against your will because you haven't grasped the concept of being allowed to say no yet, you mean."

"It was never against my will!"

"Just as he never raped you?"

"It's not the same!"

"Of course it is." Anders' eyes finally focused on Fenris and pinned him, razor sharp in their intensity. "When someone takes you and you don't think you're allowed to say no, then you're being raped. It doesn't matter how your body reacts. Not saying no because you don't think you have any right to it? So not the same thing as saying yes. And I'm no better. Loving you doesn't excuse how I didn't want to see it."

"It was never that I didn't want you."

"Oh? So you were, in your own words, 'so careful never to deny me' because you couldn't get enough of me?"

"It wasn't because I didn't want you, it was because of the pain, I-"

"The _pain_? I've hurt you _physically_ as well?"  
  
Maker, this was going from bad to worse. If he couldn't get the healer to stop talking and start listening he was going to lose him and not for any reason he'd ever imagined. He strode purposefully over to Anders, ignoring the way the other man flinched and tried to recoil, and grabbed him by his upper arms, shaking him slightly so he'd just look him in the eye and _see_.  
  
"You've spent half the night telling me to shut up and listen, will you please do me the same courtesy now? You did not hurt me physically, my markings did. There are days when they burn and touch is agonising, but that doesn't make it your fault. I didn't tell you on the days they bothered me because I was afraid you'd not take me back if I denied you, same as Hawke. Everything you've told me tonight makes me think you wouldn't have, but I didn't know any better and I did not want to lose what I had with you. It had nothing - _nothing!_ \- to do with Danarius. I was proud to be his slave but if he had sold me to a similar master it would only have been slightly humiliating. Losing you now, after tonight, after you just told me you were mine, that will destroy me. I'd rather Danarius rose from the dead and recaptured me than to think you'll never want me in your life again. I've never done this before. I spent a night with Hawke and the pain and the memories made me flee. When I finally tried to go back to him he wouldn't take me back. I didn't want to repeat those mistakes with you so I didn't say anything, but it seems you don't want the same things from me as he did. I'm still learning how to do all this, Anders, must my mistakes have so high a price that you'll leave me?"  
  
The healer took a breath and closed his eyes, arms still trapped in Fenris' hands.  
  
"It's not the price of your mistakes, Fenris, it's... you should be with a man you choose, not one who takes advantage of the circumstances to have you. Not one who acts no better than a Magister."

The healer's self hatred had never been so obvious, and Fenris' heart broke a little further for him.  
  
"Don't speak of what you don't know. Magisters will take what they want regardless of anything or anyone. You didn't take anything I hadn't offered."

"No, I was just too self absorbed to realise you offering it and you wanting it were two different things. Don't you realise what you're doing now? Asking to stay with your abuser? That's conditioning to the highest level."

"Will you stop referring to yourself as my abuser?"

"You'd rather I masqueraded it behind a prettier word?"

"I'd rather you listened to what I'm trying to make you understand!"

"And I'd rather you understood that your judgement is compromised."

"My judgement is _not_ compromised!"

"So you didn't just tell me that what Danarius did to you wasn't rape?"

"Are you going to cling to that forever? Can you not see that I was ashamed that I never tried to stop him, that I came on command like a well-trained toy? Do I _look_ ashamed of the pleasure I have with you?"  
  
Anders opened his mouth to retort but Fenris took advantage of that to silence him with a fierce kiss, using the hold he still had on his arms to press him to lie down on the bed, following to pin him down with his body. He refused to lose him over this. If someone had told him only hours ago that he'd ever feel this confident of the healer's love for him he'd have called them a liar, but after this dragon ride of a night, he just knew. Anders did love him, he belonged to him just as Fenris himself belonged to the healer, and he was not letting go. He kept on kissing the mage, going back for more whenever it seemed the other man would start talking again and, despite the fact they'd only just made love - in a way, because of it, seeing as that was why they were both having this argument naked -, he couldn't have helped his arousal if he'd wanted to. With his movement limited by his still held upper arms, Anders tried to push him off of him, presumably to continue arguing, but Fenris was more interested in proving his point through action. He let go of the healer's arms only to pin his wrists securely above his head with one hand, his other hand tangling in his lover's reddish blonde hair all the better to kiss him and swallow his words before he could utter them. Their height difference and the fact that he had to have one arm stretched holding Anders' two wrists meant their cocks weren't touching directly, the healer's also erect tip touching his balls and driving him crazy with renewed need. He slinked a bit down his lover's body and, _Maker, yes_ , there was the delicious friction he craved. Anders' hips bucked uncontrollably beneath him and, when he was sure the other man was too incoherent to keep protesting, he finally released his mouth to lave attention on each of his nipples. The healer let out a strangled cry as he alternated between sucking, licking and grazing his teeth over his sensitised nubs. The mage's pupils were blown wide with arousal.  
  
"Fenris-"

"Unless the next words out of your mouth are 'you're right and I'm sorry I ever compared myself to Danarius' or 'take me now' I don't want to hear it."

"Maker, Fenris, I'm trying to do right by you but I'm still just a man. Don't expect me to resist forever."

"Good. It seems you're not beyond simple sense after all."  
  
He palmed both of their cocks in his hand, rubbing them together, but the angle was awkward and he needed his other hand to help. It was a good thing his healer wasn't going to resist forever.  
Anders seemed to have a fair bit more self control than he'd implied, though, because he took advantage of his recently released wrists to once again attempt to push the elf off of him, but Fenris was all instinct, reacting before he'd even had time to truly think about what he was doing. He settled all his weight on Anders to stop him getting up while one of his hands flew to the floor, to where Anders had discarded his trousers before bed and found the healer's simple rope belt - the very same belt he'd once left at Fenris' mansion, so long ago. He used the advantage of his superior strength and his lover's surprise to half drag the mage upwards on the bed and bind his wrists together, the bedpost in the middle of his arms preventing the rope belt from allowing movement so Anders was powerless to resist. Anders moaned and, even if he hadn't, his cock was so hard it was impossible to mistake his interest for anything else.  
  
Fenris had never thought to do this, had never even known he wanted it, but now it was all he could think of. He looked the mage in the eye and breathed, "I want to take you the way you take me."

Anders' entire body shivered and he let out a strangled "Fenris," but the warrior wouldn't, _couldn't_ settle for anything less than explicit permission tonight. He took the healer's head in his hands, searched his eyes and said "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop." He was rewarded by a wide eyed "Maker, Fenris, please don't stop."  
  
 _Please_ seemed to become the healer's new mantra and that was something else the elf's brain filed away for later contemplation - that begging and humiliation did not need to be two halves of the same sovereign. Anders was begging quite wantonly, in fact, and shame did not seem to be a factor at all. Fenris was beginning to fear he was going to come just from the sight of it and he didn't want to embarrass himself so. He took hold of the healer's bound hands and demanded "That spell you do, _now_." As far as demands went it was far from eloquent but, thankfully, Anders knew what he meant and soon his hands were covered in grease.  
  
He'd never prepared anyone, had always been the recipient, had always thought that there was a component of power reserved for the one doing the penetrating over the one being penetrated but, again, looking at Anders even bound to the bed as he was, willingly begging and writhing with the warrior's fingers up his ass, the healer didn't seem at all diminished or ashamed.  
  
Fenris couldn't wait anymore - he wasn't going to last long as it was - so he positioned himself at the healer's entrance, both his cock and his lover's ass slick with grease. He tried to mimick Anders' care the first time the mage had entered him but the other man was as desperate as he was, using his legs to sink him deeper, taking as much as he would give, making Fenris bury himself in him to the hilt far quicker than he'd planned on doing. His begging hadn't abated.  
  
"Fenris... Please, please, please, oh, _please_."

"What do you want?" He grunted, hands secure on the healer's hips, half amazed he could still form a coherent sentence.

"You... grab me, oh, please, Fenris, love, grab me with your hand, _oh_!"

He didn't need to be told again and he grabbed his lover's cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts until suddenly - far too quickly and not quickly enough all at once - lights exploded behind his eyes as he spilled himself inside the healer, warm slickness spilling onto his hand and chest, all over the mage's chest as well, signifying the other man's release.  
  
He brought his clean hand to smooth Anders' hair away from his face, intent on kissing him, when he first noticed the tears that had leaked from his lover's eyes. His heart was gripped by fear so powerful that he couldn't breathe but, before he could voice it, it was Anders who spoke.  
  
"Happy tears, love. They're happy tears."  
  
The wave of relief that hit him was just as powerful as the fear had been.  
  
"Untie me now, I want to hold you."  
  
Fenris complied with sticky fingers and a full heart. He'd gotten through to his healer even though, he noticed now, he'd chaffed his wrists in the process. Anders wasted no time bringing his arms around the elf, despite the less than elegant movement said arms made from where they had been so tightly bound during their lovemaking. Because, frenzied, desperate and involving bondage though it had been, lovemaking was still the only word for it.  
  
"A better man would still tell you to go, love, but I'm not that good a person. I can't bring myself to keep pushing you away when you insist on wanting to stay."

"Good," Fenris murmured against his skin, "because I meant it when I said that losing you would destroy me."

"It would kill me to lose you as well, but I didn't want to abuse you, to entrap you."

"You haven't. Not ever. Put those fears to rest once and for all. I may have been Danarius' slave, my expectations of what constitutes a relationship may have been misshaped by Hawke but you have never - _never_ \- abused me or my trust. You've only ever given, it wasn't your fault that I was afraid, I just... please don't dismiss my feelings as though they aren't real. I might not have said the words but I do feel them, they're not projections."

It was impossible to miss the way Anders' eyes widened. For the first time Fenris wondered if the way he had avoided saying the words out loud was hurting the healer. He didn't even know why he hadn't said them tonight when he'd thought them often enough, but he remembered the way he had felt when Anders had confessed to loving him. Why should he deny his healer the same happiness he had been given? He kissed him again, sweet and lingering, looking into his eyes.  
  
"I... I love you. Now I've said it. I don't know why I didn't say it earlier. I love you. Not a projection and not conditioning, just me. Loving you. I hope you can believe that."  
  
Anders' eyes were full of wonder.  
  
"I... I can. I do. I love you. I'm sorry I pushed for answers you weren't ready to give."  
"Don't be. I am glad to have finally told you. But you can't run from me after everything you just told me, I won't let you. And now you know if I have to tie you up and take you to prove a point I will."  
  
There was Anders' secret smile again.  
  
"And that's supposed to dissuade me? You need to work on your threats, messere."  
  
Fenris' eyebrows shot up.

"You... liked it enough that you'd let me do it again?"

"I'd rather you learnt to tie me up in a way that doesn't completely flay the skin from my wrists, but yes, I liked that very much. Does that surprise you?"  
The elf couldn't believe he was about to willingly expose himself even further to his lover, but it felt right. He didn't want anything else to go unsaid between them.  
  
"I... yes. I've always thought that being the one beneath meant that I was... _beneath_. That power was on the other side."  
  
Anders' tone held no judgement.  
  
"Was that what you were trying to do tonight? Reduce me to something lesser?"

"No! It... first I was trying to make you _understand_ , and then I wanted to claim you. To mark you as mine, like you said you were. I didn't want to diminish you-"

"Shhh." The healer's index finger pressed lightly against his lips, momentarily silencing him. "I know. I wanted you to realise it too. Would you rather be the one topping from now on? I have so much pleasure either way, it wouldn't matter to me."

"I have pleasure both ways as well. I would maybe explore this a little more for now but, in the end, I would like to do both. Is that odd?"

"Not at all. Switching it up is perfect as far as I'm concerned. And the power?"  
  
Fenris tried to put his jumbled thoughts into words and wondered if anything of what he wanted to explain would actually translate.  
  
"There was power, but not the way I thought there would be. Seeing you begging for me... it wasn't the begging, exactly, and yet it was, but it was that it was _me_ you were begging for..."  
  
With his all-knowing secret smile Anders managed to perfectly sum up everything he'd been fumbling with.  
  
"The power was in the giving of pleasure, not in the taking or controlling."

"Yes."

"Good. That's exactly how it should be in any healthy, sane relationship. Not that I've had many of those, mind you. The closest I came to it before you was Karl, and that never got the chance to grow, emotionally."

"And with me?"

"You make me a better man," the healer said matter-of-factly. "And I love you. I've never loved anyone before."  
  
Maker, it was hard to wrap his mind around it all. Years of being a slave, years on the run, years pining for Hawke, years settling for scraps of life... Who could have known it would culminate in this, this complete acceptance of all that he was and all that he'd done?  
  
"I have never loved before either. I thought I did, with Hawke, but now I know it didn't even come close."

"One day when you're ready, _if_ you're ready, I'd like you to tell me about Hawke."  
  
Fenris considered Anders' request. It was almost light outside and neither of them had had any sleep the night before, but, after everything, talking of Hawke no longer hurt or shamed him. He could satisfy his healer's request at no cost to himself.  
  
"I am ready now, if you'd like. What do you want to know?"


	6. Anders III

Anders’ heart _ached_. There was no other word for it. It was already more sore than any heart should ever be from all the revelations he'd heard this night - to think Fenris had been in pain beneath him, hiding it and basically submitting to his will even through the agony made him nauseous all over again. If only he'd known about the pain his markings caused, if only he’d known Danarius had raped the elf, he'd have acted differently, gone slower, been more observant, taken more care. He should let his lover go but he didn't have the strength after Fenris’ protestations of love.

Love.

After everything that had been done to him, did the former slave really have it in him to love a mage? Wasn't he simply reacting, rather than feeling? But Fenris had taken control, had acted instead of reacted, he had to believe his love was real. He _had to_ \- the alternative would make him more of a monster than he already was.

Then the elf had started telling him about Hawke, and his already battered heart was probably a flayed mess inside his chest, torn between pain for his love and unbelievable anger towards his ( _former_ ) friend. Hawke had told Fenris to  _kneel_ ? Knowing about his past as a slave, about his difficulty forming attachments, he'd told him to kneel if he ever wanted a chance? 

And he'd had the gall to let Fenris believe he was worth so little that Hawke would have gladly sent him back into slavery if not for the fact that slavery was wrong in and of itself? Fenris had never even thought to question Hawke on what made him think his companions would stand idly by and let him do it, he had just accepted it as fact. He didn't know if he could ever forgive Hawke for what he'd done. 

That Fenris could tell him all of this so casually, his voice calm and accepting as if, even after everything, he saw nothing wrong with the way he'd been treated, made him want to weep and hold the elf tightly all in the same breath. He'd keep him safe now. He'd keep him safe and find a way to make the markings stop hurting if it was the last thing he did in his life. 

Maker, everything that had happened gained a whole different perspective when seen in light of what Hawke had put Fenris through. He hadn't really understood before why Fenris had gone to the Pearl, why, even if the elf's skills had been subpar (which they weren't,  _Maker, they weren't!_ ), he'd have gone to a brothel for lessons. Now it made sense. Hawke had hurt him so much that he didn't think anyone could want him if he wasn't always seductive, readily available and eager to please. All his life, that had been the only truth Fenris had known, to be used and picked apart for what he had to offer an then be cast aside as something distasteful, yesterday's trash. Having someone stand by his side through thick and thin had never even crossed his mind, although he'd done exactly that for Anders, and sticking with him after he'd blown up the Chantry with the Grand Cleric still inside it wasn't exactly run of the mill. 

Fenris would give everything and still consider himself lucky to receive the tiniest of scraps in return. It made Anders wish he could be so much more, a better man, a worthy man, so that Fenris might feel worthy in return... 

But - and that made his aching heart swell - it was  _him_ Fenris wanted. The elf had made it clear, he wanted the healer and no one else. He hadn't knelt for Hawke, but his feelings for this apostate, this runaway Grey Warden, this abomination who blew up Chantries ran so deep that he'd done everything and then some more. The honourable thing be damned, Anders wasn't going to hurt them both by pushing away the man he loved so much. He'd just have to be a better man, try harder every day, so that he could be a little less unworthy of Fenris’ love.

After their conversation Fenris finally fell asleep, his emotions no doubt contributing to his exhaustion, but the mage couldn't sleep with so many thoughts vying for control in his mind - and Justice wasn’t even awake to add his voice to the dissenting mess. The sun was already high in the sky when he gave it up as a lost cause and decided to go to the market. Having fresh pastries to greet his lover with when he awoke was a small gesture he'd never had the opportunity to do - certainly not when he'd thought Fenris in love with Hawke -, he wanted to do all those little things now, to spoil Fenris rotten as often as he was allowed.

He got up and got dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the warrior, then scribbled a quick note saying he'd be back soon and adjusted the covers on top of his lover, planting a soft kiss on his brow before leaving.

It was strange, to be out in the sunlight, a normal day, when so much had changed. Three days ago Justice was still a part of him and he thought his noncommittal liaison with Fenris was as good as it was going to get. Two days ago Justice slept and he was convinced his relationship was over. And now it was a new day and Fenris _loved_ him. Everything had changed, and where he'd once had nothing he now had _everything_. It lent the city an otherworldly quality, everything brighter, lighter, filled with colours, tastes, smells and sounds he had only ever discovered on the first time he'd fled the Circle, but magnified a thousand fold.

He was in a happy daze as he took a detour to buy his lover a finely crafted scabbard from Gorim (he didn't need one, but Anders couldn't care less, he wanted to shower the elf with affection in all possible ways, and it was such a beautiful scabbard, whereas the one Fenris had was merely functional), as he stopped by the Wonders of Thedas to browse for any book that might help him in his quest to mitigate the suffering caused by the accursed markings, as he chose and paid for the freshly baked pastries he wanted to greet his lover with. He was still smiling on the way back to the Gnawed Noble until, unexpectedly, he came face to face with a hungover Hawke leaving the inn.

Anders had been a mage for most of his life. Being a mage defined him, shaped everything in his life, had always been (except for the moments when he'd thought Fenris would always hate him for it) a motive of pride, despite the teachings of the Chantry. For all these reasons it surprised no one as much as Anders himself when he simply forgot he was a mage who could call upon elemental forces on a whim and punched the warrior, twice his size, the instant the other man dared a ’Hello’.

Hawke's stupidly stunned face, his lip split open, was barely visible to him, the image of a broken kneeling Fenris superimposed in his mind, his love’s feelings being mocked, abused and thrown back in his face lending him a strength he didn’t possess as he punched again and again until Hawke finally reacted, grabbing both his fists, still looking befuddled, scarred nose starting to swell.

"Have you gone _mad_? What's the matter with you?" Hawke tried to say, only it came out sounding more like "Whadd’th da madder widd you?"

Anders still wanted to keep punching but Hawke wouldn't let him, each of the warrior’s massive fists easily containing the healer’s smaller ones. Anders shot him a look that he was certain was pure hatred.

" _You_. How could you? You _knew_. That he'd loved you, that he’d given you everything, that the only reason he left you was because his past came rushing up to greet him only to flee again. You _knew_. And you told him to _kneel_?"

"Whadd? Is dat whadd dis is aboud? Dat was adjes ago!"

"And that's supposed to make it alright?" A furious burst of magic had the swelling abate but Anders did not heal the pain. He wouldn't have even healed the swelling if Hawke wasn't getting even more on his nerves with his stupid speech.

"It's none of your business. What happened was between me and Fenris."

"And you telling him I was getting a blow job from someone else because his were awful, is that between the two of you as well?"

"Last night? I was messing around with him! Isabela was too!"

"Oh I heard the story. _Isabela_ didn't tell him he was a lousy lay. _Isabela_ didn't tell him I was cheating on him. _Isabela_ was simply being _Isabela_ and fantasising about wild threesomes. What she did has nothing to do with what you did."

"Are you serious? I tell Isabela she’s terrible at it all the time, everyone knows I'm just joking!"

" _Isabela_?? You actually think teasing your sexually-liberated, completely self-aware girlfriend is the same thing as telling Fenris I'm cheating on him?"

"You’re twisting everything I say! I'll be clear: last night was a bit of harmless drunken teasing. Three years ago? He hurt me too, Anders, and I don't see you leaping to my defence."

"He hurt you too? You son of a bitch! You with all your memories of growing up with your damned happy family, with girlfriends and boyfriends, with _everything_ \- you want to compare yourself to _him_? He had _nothing_! All his memories were either of being a slave or of being on the run! And you wanted him to _kneel_?"

"I didn't _want_ him to kneel, I wanted him to stop lying with his ’nothing could be worse than’ crap."

"And if he had knelt? Were you prepared to take him back then? Would you have opened your arms, forgiven him everything and returned his love?"

"He'd never have knelt!"

He _had_ , but the healer was damned if he'd ever let Hawke know it.

"That's not my question. If he _had_. Would you have taken him back?"

Hawke had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I- no. But I knew he wouldn't, so the point is moot."

"You’re a self-centred bastard who thinks of nothing but himself, aren't you?"

"This from the man who blew up the Grand Cleric?"

The emotional punch in the gut was so sudden, so powerful, that for a moment his entire body felt numb. Hawke seemed just as stunned by what he’d said and let go of his hands. Then Anders found his voice, or the dispassionately cold thing that passed for it in the wake of Hawke’s careless devastation.

"Thank you for bringing that up and proving my point."

"Look, Anders-"

"Shut up. I couldn't care less what you say to me, after what I did I'm well aware that I actually deserve it. Fenris doesn't, and if you ever hurt him again, so help me, Maker, I'll-"

" _What_? So help you Maker you'll _what_? Challenge me to a duel? Get yourself killed or kill me in the process of protecting his delicate feelings? Is that what you'll do?"

Anders’ voice dropped an octave and turned even colder.

"I'll tell Isabela what you did. In detail."

Hawke seemed on the verge of answering, hot headed as always, but then his brain caught up with what Anders had actually said and his eyes widened, his mouth closing abruptly. He looked something between afraid and contrite. There was vicious satisfaction in Anders’ tone.

"I can see that ’he hurt me too’ won't cut it with her either, and you know it, so you can stop pretending you don’t know you were a complete bastard. We’ll be out of the inn before nightfall. It's only fair that we stop imposing on your generosity now that we won't be taking any more of your crap."

He turned to leave but was stopped by a massive hand on his shoulder.

"Anders, I'm sorry, please don't. You know I never cared about how much coin I spent."

His feet were no longer moving, but he didn't turn.

"I know. After what you threw in my face today, coin is the sole thing you never used to get your way in an argument. Shall we stay close until you do, is that it?"

"No! Look - I'm sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to bring up the Chantry, I know that wasn't... _you_."

"Like I said, I deserve it. Fenris doesn't."

"I did love him, and he hurt me a lot, but you're right. I know I went overboard when I told him I should have abandoned him to Danarius, and to kneel. I didn’t even feel anything for him by then. I'm sorry. I don't want you to go, either one of you." The warrior’s voice sounded choked. "The both of you, Beth and Isabela, you're all that’s left of my family. I don't want us to part like this."

There was something to be said about how heartbreaking it could be when the enormous brute that was Hawke decided to wear his heart on his sleeve. There was also something to be said about family, and about the warrior wanting them to stay even with the threat of Anders telling Isabela hanging over his head. Some of his fury left him and he turned back towards the other man.

"Fine. Unless Fenris wants to leave we’ll stay for now. But I meant what I said, Hawke, if you so much as _look_ at him wrong again I will let Isabela know every sordid detail of how you've treated him. Beth too, for good measure. Now if you'll excuse me, I don't really feel like talking to you anymore today."

Hawke nodded and left, a little less cocksure than his usual self, and wasn’t that something? Then the mage finally looked around and realised in dismay that all the pastries were ruined. They'd flown from his hands when he'd forgotten himself and punched Hawke, and were now splattered all over the street. So much for spoiling Fenris. He picked the scabbard up with a sigh. He had that at least, and the encounter had left him even more eager to be with Fenris again, or he'd have gone back to the market.

His lover was sitting on the bed as he came in, looking somewhat apprehensive, fully dressed, the note Anders had left behind clenched tightly in his fist. The mage couldn't think of anything in such a simple note that would cause distress, but Fenris was clearly nervous. He set the scabbard down next to his staff and closed the door.

"Love?"

The elf relaxed a fraction but his shoulders were still hunched defensively. He held out his fist.

"This. You wrote my name on it. What does it say?"

Was Fenris angry that he'd taken considerably longer than he'd implied? That was a tad too possessive for his taste but, he reminded himself, Fenris was newer at this than he should be, and he'd never had anyone declare to be his before. Maybe he thought that meant he was entitled to tightly control his lover's life. Just what he needed, to have to balance explaining how a healthy relationship worked with not breaking the elf’s heart.

"That I wouldn't be long. I'm sorry, it took me a while longer, but this isn't-"

He was interrupted by an armful of elf barrelling into him and kissing him fiercely, and who was he to argue? The feel of his lover in his arms made all the rest disappear into a happy sigh. Was Fenris _trembling_?

"After last night I knew there was little chance of it saying you'd rather I wasn't here by the time you came back, but I... I missed you."

The mage’s lips formed an O of surprise. The elf wasn't being possessive after all, he hadn't been able to read the note. He pictured himself in the warrior’s shoes (and wasn't that such a poor metaphor, considering he never wore any), waking up after such an emotionally draining night to find his lover gone and a note written in an unfamiliar language. His arms tightened around the other man and he kissed him deeply, soothing.

"I'm sorry, love, I'm an idiot. You can't read Trade, can you? You speak it so fluently I never even thought of that. I could have written the stupid thing in Tevinter, it's short enough that I'd pull it off. I'll do my best not to be such an arse again, alright?"

Fenris locked eyes with his, looking embarrassed.

"It wouldn't have made a difference. I don’t know how to read that either. I never... I was a bodyguard, not a scribe."

"You don't know how to read?"

"No. Hawke started to teach me but then I left him and he stopped. I thought perhaps you knew, that he might have told everyone."

The renewed anger he felt at the thought of Hawke punishing Fenris by not teaching him to read was offset by gratitude that the champion had kept the warrior’s secret, a secret that clearly shamed him.

"He never told anyone as far as I know. Would you like me to teach you?"

Hopeful green eyes were all the answer he needed, even as his lover acquiesced.

"I'm glad you stayed even if you didn't know what it said." He felt suddenly shy as he picked the scabbard up and presented it to the other man. "I bought you this. You can trade it for a different one if it’s not to your tastes-" He was arrested by the look of wonder on Fenris’ face, his too bright green eyes.

"You bought this for me?"

"Yes."

"It- I-" Whatever it was he was trying to say, words kept failing him.

"What is it, love?"

"I already have a scabbard. I do not _need_ one."

That cut. Had he misunderstood the look he’d thought he'd seen on the other man’s face?

"I do not _need_ it," Fenris repeated, as if trying to make sense of something, "and it's not something you found. You bought it for me. Even though I already have one and it is in good condition."

"Fenris, what’s wrong? You can trade it for something else if you don't-"

" _Thank you._ " So much emotion contained in two little words, as if anything more would be too much to bear, and Anders finally understood. No one had ever given Fenris a gift just for the pleasure of giving him something, no one had ever gone out of their way to buy something they thought he'd like. The smallest of gestures was still more than anything he'd ever known. He caressed his lover’s face tenderly.

"I'm glad you like it, love. I'd bought pastries for breakfast but there was a... bit of an accident and they fell. Maybe we could go out to the market and eat there?"

"Your knuckles are bleeding."

Anders hadn't noticed it and all but hid his hand looking sheepish. "Ah... yes. That would be part of that accident I mentioned. I, er, sort of punched Hawke in the face."

Fenris looked incredulous. "You _punched_ him?"

"Yes."

"But your face-"

"He didn't punch back."

"Oh. Why did you..."

"Why did I temporarily forget how to shoot lightning? I don't know. I saw his face and I just lost it. I'm quite sure he won't be telling any more tall tales about me cheating on you, by the way, but if you'd like we can leave."

"Leave?"

"Hawke’s company. Denerim. Ferelden. _Thedas_ if you'd like. Or we can stay. He's sorry, by the way."

Fenris was speechless for a long moment, then, "Do you have a preference?"

"Yes," he smiled, "with you. And if at all possible, anywhere but the Deep Roads."

Fenris was busying himself with strapping his brand new scabbard to his back, and Anders felt a thrill at the elf’s obvious happiness.

"He is sorry?"

"Yes."

"And you punched him"

"Yes."

"And he didn't punch back."

"No."

A grin. "I think I'd like to stay."

And, if anyone thought it strange that afternoon that a bare-footed tattooed elf paraded around Denerim in only leggings and a tunic, an empty scabbard strapped to his back, hand in hand with a swollen-knuckled mage, both eating pastries and grinning like fools, they did not mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I was going to have a conversation in which Fenris told Anders how he'd killed Sebastian, and another one where Anders explained about the Calling, but these two never got around to it, and somehow it feels done. I might write them in the future, as little addons, or outtakes. I actually had a huge plotline to do with the dormant Justice in my mind, but then Loveless took hold of my brain and I don't know if or when I'll get around to it. Maybe when these two are ready to be revisited they'll scream so loudly in my head that I won't be able to ignore them. :)


End file.
